Scrubs
by Rant Girl
Summary: this is really just a drabble/fluff/silly piece, Sammy wants. Dean gives. Tis SLASHY. So you know read at your own risk. Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor
1. Chapter 1

"Dean, come out of there."

Sam was standing outside the bathroom, Dean had locked the door.

"Not gonna happen."

"Dude come on. It's no different from when we work a case."

"No diff-," he chuckled incredulously, "Different? Sammy. Really? This is the definition of different. Hell it's almost downright friggin' weird."

"Just open the door."

Dean relented, the lock clicking open and he let the door fall open. A small smile working its way onto Sam's lips as Dean came into view, hands on hips, wearing the scrubs they'd swiped from some hospital a while back.

"Satisfied?" Dean said quite testily.

"Dr. Sexy's got nothing on you," Sam's voice dripping with adoration.

"Dude. What I still don't get is why you couldn't just be the naughty nurse."

"Didn't figure you for being into drag."

"Shut up."

"Just get over here and examine me."

"Thought the whole point of this little exercise was for you to take orders from me."

Sam gave him a look that simply said _Well_.

Dean shook his head. And then he smirked with a chuckle.

"What?"

"You. In hooker heels."

"Dean-"

"Hey, you brought it up."

Sam just rolled his eyes, "Whatever."

Dean's laugh subsided, riding out on the back of his breath. He shook his head again.

He wasn't into roleplay. Thought it was dorky. But Sammy had asked, so…

"I'm gonna need you to take off your shirt."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam didn't move a muscle. He wanted to be sure that Dean was actually going to go through with this. Brown eyes searching green. The most prominent message seeming to be _I can't believe you're making me do this you big freak. _

Dean sighed _but I'm gonna do it anyway_ and he moved past his brother, Sam's eyes staying on him, to the table, and he half sat, half leaned against it.

He was waiting.

Sam turned to face him, pulling his shirt up over his head, considering just tossing it across the room, but he kept a hold of it as he made his way over to Dean.

"Take a seat," Dean said it as courteously as his conscience would allow. He placed a hand on Sammy's shoulder gently pushing him down into the seat, his legs perpendicular to the back of the chair so that Dean would have full access to his back.

"Now what seems to be the problem?"

"Well Dean-"

"Dr. Dean," he corrected, wishing that they'd swiped a stethoscope too, not that he was going to tell Sam that.

"Dr. Dean," Sam repeated, having to bite his lower lip to keep from grinning, "I have this pain in my shoulder…" sliding his right hand up over his collar bone to grip the top of his left shoulder.

"Well let me take a look," and Dean moved round, placing his hand firmly against Sammy's shoulder blade, Sam taking a sharp breath from the pain he was supposed to be feeling. Dean let his fingers follow the curve, Sam arching his back as they feathered down his spine.

Dean's tongue flicked out over his lips.

"Any…_other_ symptoms?"

"Is it serious?"

"That depends. Could be," Dean stood before Sam once more.

"Well I keep getting this funny feeling in my tummy whenever I see my brother."

"Do you have it now?"

Sam nodded somewhat sheepishly.

"Well then it's very serious."

"It is?"

"I'm gonna need you to take off your pants."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean took a seat pretending to take notes, watching Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam wanting to draw in Dean's full attention, bent forward to remove his sneakers and he hissed from the phantom pain.

"Allow me," Dean knelt before Sam taking a firm hold of his right heel, pulling off the shoe slowly, doing the same for the left. He stroked Sammy's calf, making his little brother shift in his seat.

"Do you think you could stand for me?" he leaned back on his heels, hands on his thighs, his eyes level with the bulge in Sam's jeans. He licked his lower lip.

Pushing back on his feet he rose slowly, straightening out his legs before bringing his shoulders up, his chest puffed out as he clasped his hands behind his back. His head falling to the side he took in his brother, from the thread bear socks, the denim clad thighs, the chiselled chest, rising and falling just that little bit slower, to that unruly hair. Those lips. The glimmer in Dean's eyes predatory, drawing Sammy to his feet.

Sam popped the button on his jeans, feeling the heat spread to his cheeks. Eyes dropping to the floor, he scratched the back of his neck, Dean was so confident, his gaze softening at Sammy's hesitation, "Hey, I'm a professional," leaving off the _there's nothing I haven't seen before_, his tone that of reassurance, Sam learning a whole new level of appreciation for his big brother as his fingers slipped into his, Dean squeezing gently to make sure Sammy knew it was ok.

They let go. Sam pulled the zipper down at what felt to Dean an agonising rate, but he let Sammy take his time, he was never one to be rushed.

Sammy finally stepped out of his jeans and Dean shook his head as he folded them over the chair. Taking a step back, he cleared his throat before getting back down to _business_, "I'm gonna need you to lie down."


End file.
